Faery Ring
by A Wordsmith
Summary: Harry doesn't escape unscathed from the dementors on the train, and his ruined hand attracts eyes that aren't quite human.
1. Chapter 1

They were happily chatting by the time the train hissed like a snake.

Everyone paused, looking around. Harry met Hermione's eyes, his own narrowed in confusion. Her eyebrows were lowered, teeth perched on the edge of her lip. Ron grumbled, arm reaching out to steady himself, looking around. The sleeping professor grunted but didn't wake.

The train jolted, groaned, and then ground itself to a stop.

Harry yelped and threw out an arm to catch himself before he fell off his seat. The second he righted himself, he looked out the window. It was dark, that was clear, but not overly dark. Light enough that he could see everything for a considerable distance. And all that there was to see was an empty field, grasses bumping against each other in a soft breeze. He tried to see forward as best he could but they were in the back of the train, and all he could see was the scarlet wall stretching on and on, dark windows being filled with pressed in faces as far as the eye could see. He leaned down, fingers working at the latch.

Hermione grabbed his wrist. "Don't," she whispered. "Something's not right here."

"Well, of course something's not," Ron said. "The train's stopped and we don't know why."

She glared at him. "Well, thank you for pointing out the obvious. It was almost like we didn't need it."

Harry stared at the window, fingers dancing over the ledge. He frowned and looked to the professor, who still wasn't moving. Shouldn't he have woken up by now?

Whispers snaked up and down the train, hisses of conversation that none of them could pick out. People poked their heads out of their compartments, shouting to prefects who hurriedly ran up and down, trying to calm everyone down.

The temperature of the room dropped.

It had been warm, pleasantly so. The heat coming from vents under the seats, pumping higher and higher while they laughed and joked around.

But now Harry's breath steamed in the air, trickling grey and pale up to the ceiling. Hermione and Ron's did the same, like smoke writhing through the air. He rubbed his hands together, knuckles freezing. His ears stung, toes curled inside his boots, and he could feel his cheeks start to flush.

And the train was still stopped. Creaks and groans echoed down the suddenly silent corridors, the train settling and resettling on the tracks. But it wasn't moving.

Hermione sucked in a breath, brown eyes glinting. She didn't stop looking around, staying sitting as she peered out. Her wand was in her hand while the other was curled in her pocket. Ron just looked confused.

The window started to frost over, the edges clouding and spreading inwards. Ice glittered, showing them one last view of the empty field before covering it up. The frost had covered the window in almost under a second, spreading much too fast to be normal. It was getting almost too cold for the simple robes he was wearing, and he could see his skin becoming more and more pale.

And then the lights flickered off.

It started with their overhead light, which spluttered once before giving up. The two smaller bulbs still gleamed valiantly, but then they each disappeared like a flame snuffed out. No one moved.

The light shining in through the frosted window was tinted pale blue, more like moonlight than the sun it should have been. Everything was wrong.

A shadow passed by their window, cutting off their light for nothing but a second. But everyone froze, staring with wide eyes at the figure that disappeared from view. Nothing else happened until the train hissed once more and a door slid open.

"Something's getting on," Hermione hissed. All Harry and Ron could do was nod dumbly, wands tight in their shaking fists. Darkness shone all around them, mist pumping from between their lips. Nothing made a sound, every other student had disappeared back into their compartments.

Harry slowly slid forward and flicked the latch of their door closed, locking it.

" _Lumos_ ," Hermione muttered, jabbing her wand a bit too sharply. But still light flared into existence on the tip, making everything it touched glow with brilliant whiteness. Harry and Ron quickly copied, pointing their wands up to light the whole compartment.

There was still nothing happening. Other lights began to flicker on in the train, but that was also the point that the glass window of the compartment began to frost over. From the inside.

"That shouldn't-"

A shadow crossed over the door.

It was much too tall to be human, stretching above seven feet. It was a shifting, writhing silhouette that swayed and danced as much as a flickering light yet managed to be perfectly still. It was right outside their compartment. No one said anything, breath sharp in their throat and fingers curling around the seats.

And there was something _inside_ Harry's head - something that rose in crescendo with every passing second -

 _Harry Harry no not HarryHarry_

It was soft, a female voice that grew stronger and stronger with panic.

The silhouette moved, reaching out with some terrible sweeping hand. The latch on the door snapped open with any resistance. There was still no response from the professor in the corner.

A hand, pitch black and pockmarked with cuts and sores and blisters all as black as night, curled around the handle of the door. Its skin was sucked parallel to the bone, barely more than a skeleton of a hand dyed black.

And the wood of the handle rotted before their very eyes, staining black and then blacker as it was slowly pulled open. It started to melt in on itself, the wood splintering and falling apart.

The figure was still black in the light of their wands, sucked dry and dripping in a ragged cloak that danced in an imaginary wind -

It floated one step closer, hand stretching out like a wall of fear -

Hermione felt tears on her cheeks and Ron choked as his stomach dropped to his knees -

But the creature's attention flickered from each of them and fell onto Harry, who was frozen on his seat, wand still pointing up. Even the light of their wands, which had been so strong a moment ago, went dim and then died.

The figure swept forward, sightless black eyes and horrible, horrible mouth gleaming.

 _Not Harry not Harry_

It leaned down. The pain in his head swelled higher.

And then it grabbed his hand and brought him closer and he screamed -

There was a flash of silver light and his world went dark.

He came to not long after with Hermione over his face. Her eyes were wide, mouth moving, but he can't quite hear her. There was some sort of high pitched ringing in his ears that was much too loud, and it hurts to even think about trying to stand up.

But he blinked twice and watched as the world spun in front of his eyes, swirling like it was made of water. Hermione's brown hair encircled her head like a wreath, and it took a few seconds before it went back to being just a frizzy mane that sticks up on every which side. Her brown eyes met his, and she smiled wide.

"He's up! He woke up!" She turned away and said, but to him, she might as well be screaming next to his ear. He hissed and put a hand up to his ear. It was cold but warming up. His fingers were colder, however.

She flinched away and then settled back, letting him slowly push himself up to a sitting position. His head was pounding and words hammer behind his eyes, words he can't figure out.

It took him a few blinks, but everything swam into focus.

He was in the compartment, laying on the floor. Hermione and Ron were sitting on either side of his head, looking down over him. Hermione has worry lines around her eyes that he didn't notice and Ron was twirling his wand in his hands, eyes dark and worried. People were poking their heads by his door, staring in with wide eyes. He didn't recognize any of them.

And then there was the professor, Professor Remus J Lupin, standing over him with a wand drawn and soft grey eyes. His hair was salt and pepper and tousled fondly, and his robes are old with a tear down the side. His wand was drawn. There's a strip of something white over his shoulder.

And also his wand was drawn.

No one else seemed to be reacting to that, so Harry put it out of his mind and focused on the other things. Like how his left hand hurts like the fires of hell are on it, and he distinctly remembers passing out, and also how he woke up in a train compartment.

Then he remembered the creature, the monster with pitch black skin that was sucked dry next to the bone. The one with empty black pits for eyes and the hole for a mouth, the one that stopped the train, the one that froze the windows and door from the inside, the one that shattered the lights, the one with black robes that flowed like water.

And the one that had grabbed his hand and attacked him and then there was a flash of silver light.

That was why he had passed out.

His breath sped up in his throat and his heart beat an insanely fast rhythm, but then he felt the train moving beneath him. It didn't shudder or stop, just kept chugging along. His anxiety dropped slightly.

"Harry," Professor Lupin said, kneeling down slightly. "Harry. Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Harry blinked a couple more times, looking around. There didn't seem to be anything wrong. The lights were all on, the windows were unfrosted, and the compartment door was fine. "Yes. I think I'm fine." He ignored how his hand was shaking and the other one hurt. "What happened?"

The professor chose his words carefully. "Well, dementors got onto the train. And they attacked you, but I was able to chase them off."

"Dementor?" He blinked, trying to think back. In every class he had ever had, he didn't remember dementors. Were they evil?

Harry frowned. "I remember it grabbing me? Is everything okay?"

His hand started to hurt again, pounding and burning and freezing at the same time. He brought it up to look at, but then Hermione quickly started to speak. "Harry! Um - of course, everything is fine! You don't have to worry-" But then he looked at his hand and froze.

His hand was rotted, just like the handle of the door. Dark grey and black studded over his skin, with three finger marks burned deep into his skin. It spread up to his wrist, ugly and horrific.

He slowly tried to move his fingers. And they did, but slowly and painfully and hard to control.

A scream built in his throat. He choked it down, staring around the compartment with wide, wide eyes.

Professor Lupin sighed and held up a hand. "The train is nearly there. We'll take you to Madam Pomfrey as soon as possible, don't you worry. It can't be as bad as it looks."

He stared up at him with incredulity, eyes wide and confused. "Take me Saint Mungos now! I can't get it healed just lying on the ground as I wait to go to school!"

Lupin shook his head. "No Harry, you'll be fine in the Hospital Wing." His wand flicked back up into his sleeve, disappearing from view. He had a perfectly normal face, one with eyebrows creased with worry and grey eyes wide and warm. If Harry had seen him on the street, he wouldn't have looked twice. But now the man was still standing over him with a wand and was apparently a professor. A professor who won't take him to get the healing he deserves.

He cast around to Hermione and Ron, asking for help with his eyes. They both meet his gaze but Hermione just smiles as best she can and gives him a thumbs up. She hadn't looked at his hand even once. Ron saw the struggle in Harry's eyes and just looked away, eyes closed. He's on his own here.

But the man was a _professor_. Despite everything that his instincts and his previous years of Hogwarts tell him, he simply nodded angrily and started to push himself up to a standing position. It almost took him a moment to realize he can't actually feel anything from his left hand.

Well. That wasn't quite true.

It was cold, cold in the kind of burning fashion that felt like his fingers could start falling off at any second. His hand wasn't painful enough to bring tears or even hurt too much, just a constant reminder that some part of him was wrong.

He flexed it, watching the pitch black skin roughly bunch up and then smooth out. It was like watching a stranger's hand instead of his own, one that had been caught in a fire.

"Oh Harry, you don't have to look at it, Madam Pomfrey will get it healed up as soon as you get there." Hermione was almost fretting over him, hands coiling and recoiling as if she wants to push his arm down but can't get herself to touch it. She was expecting him to be furious and hysterical. He was overcome with a feeling to prove her wrong.

"Oh, I know," he said rather mildly. "But it is rather curious how I was attacked and all it does is rot my hand away. Was that it?"

Professor Lupin shuffled almost nervously. "Well, no. Dementors - er - well, they suck the souls from their victims. I was able to chase it off before that happened."

Something burned on the back of his throat, something fierce and rough and painful. He swallowed. "Ah. Of course." And then he went back to looking at his hand, flicking his eyes over it and trying to pretend that this was a museum piece, something dead for many hundreds of years and kept around to look at, not attached to him. It helped, if minutely.

They don't talk anymore on the way to Hogwarts, and he could not have been more happy about that. His forced calm was dripping away, and it was all he could do to keep his breathing steady. Ron still hadn't made more than three seconds of eye contact and Hermione still murmured under her breath things that he couldn't hear. Professor Lupin sat down on a bench, eyes sliding closed soon. The man must have been exhausted, and Harry felt a little wriggling of sympathy worm its way into him.

But then excited voices echoed around the train, much quieter than previous years. They were still loud enough to hear, and that was when Harry pushed himself off of his seat and walked to the door. The piece of rotted wood was still there, glistening and ugly.

 _My hand is uglier_ , he thought almost smugly, and then patted himself on the back for taking this so well.

Hermione lunged forward to pull the door open for him, hiding the wood as the compartment side folded outward. They walked out, Professor Lupin staying back with his eyes open. At least the man didn't fall asleep as he was supposed to leave.

They wandered through the crowds, slowly pushing themselves through the train to pop out one of the exits. It wasn't a very far walk to the carriages, and he deftly danced around the tiny first years making their way over to Hagrid's enormous figure. Harry waved happily to him before Hermione snatched his hand down.

"Hermione! What was that for?"

"Don't let others see it, Harry! What if- what if they try to use it against you, or they make more fun, or if Malfoy sees you," she hissed, bunching up his robes over his hand.

He ripped them off. "Hermione, it's fine. Everyone knows I was attacked, and if Malfoy gets wind of this, then maybe I can infect him with it."

She smiled in spite of herself. "Oh, alright. Just be _careful_."

They grinned before Ron pushed himself next to Harry, putting him in the middle. "Oi, trying to kick the ginger out? It won't work!"

Laughter bubbled up in their throats as they finally found an empty carriage and clambered on. It wouldn't be long until they arrived at Hogwarts, and then Madam Pomfrey would fix his hand up so fast he'd still have time to see all of the new sortings. Everything would be fine.

They rumbled up next to the front gates and saw Madam Pomfrey already standing there. Harry clambered out of the carriage and trotted up to her, grinning widely.

She sniffed but smiled when she saw him, hand extending. "Come along, Mr. Potter. Much to do."

He waved to Hermione and Ron with his right hand before letting himself be tugged through the front gates.

Immediately, he knew he was back at home. The corridors that stretched miles above him made of the same grey stone carved to perfection, lined with pictures of every witch and wizard imaginable. A few chattered emptily to the two of them as Madam Pomfrey sped to the Hospital Wing, and the shimmering shape of a ghost bobbed up ahead.

She pushed open a set of doors and walked into the crisp white healing hall, turning sharply on her heel and beckoning for Harry to follow her. He did, still grinning, and quickly walked over to his signature bed.

"Well. Show it to me," she said, settling down next to him, sitting on the next bed. He peeled back his robe sleeve and held his hand up in the air.

There was a sudden intake of breath. "Goodness. Well, that's much worse than I thought. I only heard that you had a bump with a dementor, not that your hand had been strangled by one. Have you had any chocolate?"

He blinked. "No?"

She sniffed. "I'd like to bash the head of the new professor in! That's standard procedure even if a dementor didn't get anywhere close to anyone. Stay here."

And then she was gone, disappearing into a room in the back. He flexed his fingers again, noticing how they moved much slower than he had intended. It was still strange, and he doubted that it would ever not be. At least until she fixed his hand up. That would be a relief.

She appeared a second later with a stick of Honeydukes chocolate in her hand, forcing it into his right. He quickly snarfed it down, sighing happily as some pit in his stomach he hadn't noticed popped out of existence.

Madam Pomfrey frowned over his hand before standing back up. "Cast a spell." He readied his wand. "With your _left_ hand, Mr. Potter."

He swapped hands and winced. It was a flaming torch, and his hand was an ice block. Not quite pain but nothing comfortable, either. "That feels weird."

"That'll be your wand magic connecting with your left hand, Mr. Potter."

"I don't think it's connecting."

"Cast a spell then, and we'll find out," she sniffed.

He shrugged. " _Wingardium Leviosa_."

Nothing happened. He tried again, this time aiming for a pillow. " _Wingardium Leviosa_." Still nothing.

Madam Pomfrey scowled, swooping in on his hand. He quickly set his wand down as she gently touched his fingers. Her wand appeared and she started to murmur words, soft ones that trickled from her lips. Bursts and buzzes of light danced around his hand, seemingly unstopping.

And then her wand snapped back up her sleeve and she stepped back, face dark and eyebrows drawn.

"I'm afraid I'm unable to fix it, Mr. Potter."

He blinked up at her. "What?"

"You heard me. I am not able to fix your hand, nor will you ever be able to cast any sort of magic with it again."

* * *

 **Hey guys! New fic.**

 **This one should be pretty long, or at least I hope so. I'm going to have regular updates so I can kick my rear into gear and I also have written out a plan, so that might help!**

 **Also! 25th story, guys! Isn't that awesome?**

 **But yeah! Tell me what you think and what you think is going to happen! Happy reading!**

 **Anyway! Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


	2. Chapter 2

Harry froze.

Madam Pomfrey hovered for a second, soft eyes flicking over him. Her words had been harsh but it was clear in the way her fingers fluttered and her wand spun around her hands that she hadn't put her heart into them. And indeed, who would?

There he was, the supposed-to-be savior of the world, and he had a dementor hand that couldn't be fixed and he couldn't cast magic with. An ugly black hand that looked it had gone through a fire and hadn't survived. An ugly hand that moved slower than he wanted it to. An ugly hand that would never cast a spell.

Distantly, he could hear a soft rumble from new students shuffling into the Great Hall. They seemed quieter, but the roar from the other students made up for it. He was missing the feast and the sorting, sitting in the Hospital Wing while his friends ate happily and talked with others.

His somewhat joyous mood plummeted.

Madam Pomfrey appeared, though he hadn't noticed her leaving. She had another stick of chocolate in her hand, this one almost larger than the first.

"Eat up," she said sharply, then continued in softer tones. "I won't have you becoming all depressed and then realizing it was your hand all along."

He glanced up at her, already reaching out for the chocolate. "What do you mean?"

She pursed her lips. "Well, as best I can assume, your hand will be volatile and may react strangely over the next couple of days. It may cause you to feel sad for no apparent reason for as long as a week, but then again, it may end tomorrow. There aren't any records of a dementor getting close enough to grab someone and then being chased off. Actually, there aren't any records of dementors grabbing anyone. This one must have been very determined."

"The new defence professor must be very strong, then."

She tilted her head to one side, eyes staring off. "Well, I suppose you're right. Professor Lupin does have much experience with dark creatures, so it is quite fair to say he may be able to teach everyone to defend themselves from the dementors."

"They shouldn't ever attack us again. I hope they ran off to the farthest corner of the planet," He asked bitterly, taking another bite of chocolate. The pit in his stomach had come back, though weaker than before. With every bite of chocolate, it disappeared more and more before popping out of existence, and a bubbling spring of warmth filled its place. "Why were they even attacking the train in the first place? And why aren't there protections against that sort of thing?"

Madam Pomfrey sniffed. "Well, the Minister of Magic decided that Hogwarts would be safer with dark creatures floating everyone and sucking away the happiness in the minute chance that Sirius Black decides to attack the building that holds Albus Dumbledore."

Harry blinked up at her.

She looked back, radiating disapproval that wasn't directed at him.

"Wait, what? The Minister of Magic? Fudge? Fudge agreed to put dementors all over the train and have them attack us?"

"Not just over the train, Mr. Potter. Over the entire school."

He sucked in a long, deep breath. "That's bad. That's really bad. There are OWLs and NEWTs coming up for some people and homework is really stressful and we already suffer with Snape!"

"Professor Snape, my boy," a warm voice came from behind them. Harry spun and was greeted with the image of the tall wizard that ruled over the school. His beard was still white and nearly brushing the floor, and his hair was just as long. His blue eyes twinkled happily over his half-moon glasses, and his robes were a sort of light red mixed with yellow. He was everything that Harry remembered him to be.

"Hullo, Professor Dumbledore," he said. The feast must have just ended, and now he could hear hundreds of footsteps bouncing around the stone walls. Everything echoed here in Hogwarts.

The man smiled back at him. "Hello, Harry. How was your summer?"

He frowned. "Just as bad as ever, sir. But what do I do with this-" he shook his hand fruitlessly, watching the pockmarked surface thump against the blankets. It stood out sharply from the crisp white covers.

Dumbledore hummed quietly, reaching up. His wand was in his hand, and he gently touched it with the tip. Nothing happened. He didn't have to say a word and then his wand flashed a gentle yellow, the magic settling into his skin. Harry didn't feel anything other than a light tickle, and after that, nothing happened.

There was a soft sigh. "I'm very sorry, my boy. There's simply nothing that could be done."

Harry's hope dropped to his knees. "Are you very sure, sir? There's nothing?"

A nod. "A dementor's magic is a very fickle and curious thing, Harry. We do not know how it works precisely, and while there is nothing that healing spells could do, that doesn't mean that it won't just heal on its own."

He perked up, eyes wide. "Really?"

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Dementor magic is strange, but the power of determination is even more powerful. Anything is possible with magic, Harry."

Harry blushed. "Oh, of course. I just wish it hadn't happened."

Dumbledore sighed unhappily. "I know just how you feel on this matter. I dearly wish that Cornelius could have seen my side of the issue, but he decided that dementors would be the safest idea for our school."

He opened his mouth to reply before a thought drifted over his head. Harry frowned, thinking. "But sir, surely you had to agree, right? I mean, this is your school."

Dumbledore laughed. "Ah, how I wish! I am in charge of the school, but Cornelius had quite browbeaten me into submission in order to do his work. He has never quite trusted me after the incident of last year, much to my sadness."

Harry nodded, but he was still confused. What could browbeat Albus Dumbledore into letting dangerous dark creatures surround his school? And why would he ever agree to Fudge's plan?

But still, he just grinned and settled back on his bed. Dumbledore fixed his glasses slightly, turning to fully face him. "You'll be out of here and back with your friends in no time, and I'm sure you will have many an adventure with them. But there is just one more thing you have to be aware of."

Harry turned to him, head cocked. "What is that? Should I not go near dementors?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, I would have hoped that was obvious! But no, something else. I'm afraid you may have to hide your hand. This, however small, is a weakness that I don't want any servants of Voldemort finding out."

He gaped at the professor.

"Just a simple glamour every morning, my boy. Nothing much at all. It is all for your safety, I'm sure you understand."

Harry ignored the last sentence and immediately broke into an argument. "Why should I have to hide it? Everyone on the train saw me get attacked, it's better to prepare for Voldemort finding out than try and hide it!"

"Oh, don't exaggerate. Perhaps a few, but I'm sure they won't say anything. Your friends would never tell anyone, and I trust Professor Lupin wholeheartedly."

"But it's not that big of a deal! My hand just looks a bit weird and while it might be a bit difficult to cook things, it won't affect me that much. I'll be fine. Voldemort can't use that against me."

Dumbledore didn't say anything, and Harry pressed farther. "If anything does happen to me in a battle, I can still fight back! This isn't any sort of weakness. I don't need to hide it, sir, just let me have it normal."

There was a long pause, and then Dumbledore let out a deep, rumbling sigh. "I'm sorry you feel that way Harry, but I'm afraid my decision is final. It's just a simple glamour in the morning, and then you are free to be as normal as you wish."

Harry stared at him, a million emotions burning inside his chest. Dumbledore stared back, firmness in his eyes.

And then Harry stood up and took off like a shot toward the doors.

He was out in a second, barreling through them with his shoulder and letting them clap shut behind him. The stone corridors towered above him but he ran on, moving faster and fast with each passing second. His robes twirled around him, arms pumping, breath sharp in his throat.

Where was he going?

There were voices from his left so he took a right, heading down an enormous hallway he barely recognized. And then there they were, the enormous front doors that had to be operated with magic. He took off past them, sure of where he was.

Three more rights and up a flight of stairs had him at the courtyard door, and he booked it outside.

It was cold but nothing like the train had been, a pleasant nip that died with the heat of his running. The sky still glimmered with the fading echoes of sunlight and light from the windows of Hogwarts spilled over the grass.

He ran on, eyes fixed on the shadowy towers of the Forbidden Forest. There, he could hide, if only for a short while. He could tuck himself into the corner of a tree trunk on the edge and just sit for an hour or so, trudging back inside once he got too cold.

Reaching the edge, he darted around the side of the first tree and came face to face with a girl.

It was a pretty girl, that he could recognize in the first thirty seconds of them just staring at each other. She was about his height - though that wasn't saying much - maybe a bit shorter. Pale, silvery blonde hair that was eerily close to Malfoy's color spilled down the back of her hair like a waterfall made of starlight, glimmering in the air. He probably would have appreciated it more if it didn't remind him of his rival. Her eyes were a darker shade, more silver than blond. She wasn't as pale as Malfoy, tan lines around places that gloves and necklaces would go. Her face was one of absolute serenity and curiosity at the same time.

He sucked in a shallow breath and stepped backward, glancing around. There was no one else there, just the endless wall of the forest he was in. He looked back at her.

Hogwarts robes edged in dark blue. Ravenclaw. She had no shoes.

"Malfoy?" He said softly.

And the girl laughed loudly, eyes sparking with mirth. "No, I'm afraid not." Her voice was strong yet fluttery, solid yet like a cloud. "Just Luna Lovegood. Or Loony, if you prefer."

"No, I don't. What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask the same, Harry Potter."

She knew his name. Okay. Everyone did. "You first."

"Well, they never serve pudding at the first feast. That's all I really eat in the Great Hall, as the house elves in the kitchen have much nicer foods. Nargles showed me them and I've gone there ever since."

"But why aren't you inside?" He pressed.

"It's much nicer out here, too."

He nearly opened his mouth to argue that she should be in her dorm before realizing that he probably shouldn't argue that someone should be inside while he was also outside. There wasn't any way he could win as a hypocrite.

"Why are you outside, Harry Potter?"

Dumbledore said to hide it. It was for his own good. Voldemort could use it against him.

So he pulled his hand around from where it was tucked in his pocket and showed it to her.

Luna's lips pursed as she stared it over, eyes wide. A glance flicked up to him. "May I?"

He offered it to her.

She pressed lightly on his fingers, on the burn marks, on the place where it ended. Her hand danced over the blackness of his own and her eyes were narrowed with thought as she stared at it all.

"That's very dark magic," she finally said, pulling back.

Harry slid his hand back down to his side. "Yeah," he answered lamely. "A dementor did it."

She perked back up. "That's interesting. So you came outside? Why not to the Hospital Wing?"

"Madam Pomfrey couldn't heal it."

Luna didn't press anymore on the subject, and he could have kissed her for that relief. It was hard enough to think about it, let alone explain it to someone he had never met before in his life. It would be hard to talk about it to Hermione, who had been there!

And then they are back to silence, one that was both awkward and comfortable. Harry sunk down to sit with his back against the trunk. The bark was scratchy but his robes were too thick, and he sighed and let his head fall back against the wood. Luna gently sat next to him, eyes closed.

Nothing happens, just a wind fluttering over them.

But the wind doesn't go away, and then something happened.

A flash of light, a pale white, darted in front of them. Harry jolted. Luna's eyes snapped open.

It happened again, another burning streak of light that disappeared in a second. They both shoot to their feet, eyes wide and staring.

"Know what it is?" He murmured to her.

"No idea." The gentle, dreaming quality had dropped from her voice.

The next time the light came, it isn't from in front of them. It was farther away, a speck behind another tree. They barely have to look at each other before running off after it.

It flashed again, this time much farther away from them. They sprinted after it, barely aware of the forest disappearing behind them, of the light from outside growing dim, of the turns they're making and not keeping track of. There was some sort of fire in their eyes that isn't their own, driving them to keep moving, chasing, running.

They'd been running for a while when Luna suddenly threw out her arm to catch Harry's chest, stopping them both. Their running catches up with them and they started panting, chests heaving and bent double. It is nearly completely dark, moonlight filtering through the branches.

"What- what the-" Harry gasped, wildly looking around. There was nothing here he recognized, no path he could remember taking.

Luna pressed a finger to her lips, eyes furiously wide. She points down to a circle of flowers, pale pinks and reds, right at their toes. Another second and they would have stepped inside.

"What's that?" He murmured to her, an uneasy feeling sliding over them. There was something strong in the air, something heavy and pressing.

"Faery ring. We nearly stepped in." Luna carefully took several steps back, Harry mirroring her. He doesn't know that much about the magical creatures in this world, but even he remembered the stories Dudley got read to him every night. Never, ever step in a faery ring. They take another step backward.

Metal touched their backs.

Harry jumped but Luna grabbed his arm, staring at him with wide eyes. She doesn't move and he copies her, keeping his face pointed straight forward.

The metal was thin but sharp, right in the small of their backs. Harry didn't hear anyone approaching. Who is it?

They still don't move, and all that there was was a gentle breeze floating through the forest. It brushed against them, almost mocking. There was a gentle scent of flowers and fire on it, too very different smells.

And then finally, there was a voice.

"Turn around." It was gruff and powerful, coming from somewhere above their heads. Harry and Luna carefully let go of each other, turn around, and then grappled to hold hands again. They were nearly cutting off each other's circulations.

He came face to face with fur, a gentle brown dappled with white. Carefully, he looked up, meeting a pair of strikingly blue eyes. Human eyes. A human body, with pale blonde-white hair and corded muscles, attached to the bottom half of a horse. A centaur.

A centaur he recognizes.

"Firenze?" He asked quietly, still holding onto Luna's hand. She was facing a pitch black stallion with a wild-eyed man and didn't turn to face him.

The centaur snorted and scraped the ground, still holding his bow with deadly precision. His arrow was tipped with metal and is very, very sharp.

"Firenze?" He tried again.

"Walk backward."

Luna nearly squeezed his hand off. Behind them was the faery ring, the one that Luna said they could never go in.

The two centaurs brandished their bows, drawing the string a little bit farther back. And slowly, the pair of them started walking backward.

One foot over the other, determinedly staring at anything but the centaurs or the ground they were walking over. Until Firenze smiled grimly and lowered his bow. The other centaur did the same.

The flowers gleamed below them, the pinks and reds lighting up with moonlight that danced through the trees to land on them. They've stepped inside a faery ring.

Harry desperately tried to remember what happened in those faery tales, the ones he never had read to him. But he can't remember anything past the number one rule - don't step in a faery ring.

The centaurs trotted a little forward, plucking arrows from bows and stringing them back into quivers. They seem much more relaxed, tails flicking and arms falling to sides. It was not a good sign.

Harry and Luna were not moving, were not blinking, were not breathing. They had no idea what the centaurs wanted from them. Luna was nearly squeezing his hand off and he was doing the same to her.

And then Firenze stepped forward again, stepping into the faery ring without so much as a glance down. "Turn around, and start walking."

They had no choice but to obey.

In front of them was a wall of branches that curled around each other in a sort of barrier. The centaurs make no movement to help them so Harry reached forward and pushed on the branches.

They gave way before him, showing a glimmer of light.

Luna grabbed his hand tighter and started walking forward. He didn't try to stop her, following as bravely as he could through the door of trees.

It was much thicker than he expected, as they walked through what seemed like a mile of everlasting leaves and branches that never touched them yet seemed to drown them in their number. But before long, they pushed all of the way through and ended up in a clearing.

The clearing was large, but not overly so. Far enough that he could see details on the trees of the other side, and far enough across that the trees couldn't cover the top and instead let the moonlight shine down, coating everything in a soft silver hue. The ground was covered in the softest of clovers, stopped only by flowers or a gentle stream that flowed over pebbles. There was a tree in the middle with an inner space carved out, like a throne.

And everywhere, there were creatures.

Centaurs lined the walls, standing powerfully next to trees with bows slung over their shoulders and arms flexed. They were every shape and color and gender, seemingly hundreds despite the small perimeter. They didn't come farther in.

Dotted around the clearing were tall women with hair and skin that glimmered in the richest of woodland hues. Amber, brown, mahogany, honey, russet - every color on a tree was present. They were garbed in strange materials, dresses and cloaks the same color as grasses.

The stream and air were filled with tiny creatures that glowed with an inner light. The stream was filled with dark blue ones that switched between forms as easily as blinking, going from falling rain to clouds to tiny people that swam with the currents. More filled the air, the same pale white as the light that had attracted them to the faery ring.

More and more strange creatures were around, all of them looking straight at the pair of them. But the strangest of all was the one sitting in the alcove of the tree in the middle.

She was tall and strikingly beautiful, with dark brown skin and hair the same color. Every few inches, there were dots of white along her arms and face, shaped somewhat like flowers, but they were actually in her skin, more like tattoos. Her eyes were large and a deep brown, framed by long lashes. In her hair there stood a crown of white flowers, the same shape and color of those marks on her skin.

Luna gasped lightly, color draining from her face. She looked like she was about to faint, breath hissing from her teeth.

"The Elder Dryad," she murmured.

* * *

 **Hey-o!**

 **Bit more action this time, and my title actually corresponds to my story! Aren't you guys proud of me?**

 **Anyway - please enjoy this chapter, and have a very fun time guessing what is going to happen next!**

 **Have at it!**

 **Anyway! Please read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


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